If one were to examine Cain’s office, it would not resemble the disheveled wreck from mere hours before. Likewise, it would not look as though the battle between soul and machine had ever happened. Even the chaos from the street below would be rather difficult for the eye to catch as there is no street, but instead the massive shroud of a brick building. At least, that is as it seems.

On their way to the depository, father, daughter, and pet cyborg enter this office. To Nora, all the rooms they had passed on the way here had felt vacant, and while this one is filled by a tidy arrangement of tarps, mechanical pieces, a desk, and cabinets, it feels more empty.

It had not been this way before. There were always people, there was always life and movement and the enchanting flair of discovery. But now...

No one.

Except for the Remnants, her thoughts announce in response, although she knows not what these “remnants” are.

Cain types a security key by the elevator and Nora waits patiently, pondering what it was that she thought.

And that is when she sees it. Standing beside a large metal door, there is the willowy figure of a woman. The bones of her cheeks are seeping through her skin and her face is wrought with terror. She was not there a second ago.

What happened to you? Nora’s thoughts question, yet in shock, she is unable to speak.

The lady does not move a muscle and Nora notices the woman’s eyes are fixed on her in an unbroken stare. The blackened rings around her reddened eyes tell the depths of her exhaustion, but they are not the only sign of hurt. Purple and black bruises stain the features of her face and tears cascade down her thin cheeks, disappearing as they drop to the floor.

“Teacup,” she calls out.

The girl had only heard that name from one person.

Her mom.

Nora’s stomach twists at the gruesome sight of her mother. She is unrecognizable through abuse and exhaustion. And that fear–she has only seen it once before. When she was at the hospital. When her father…

She pushes the thought down into that dark place in her mind. That place in her memories she never visits.

But, if her father didn’t do it, then who? Who hurt her mother?

Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

“Mom?” the girl whispers in a shaking breath.

She progresses toward her mother with a few trembling steps, reaches out an arm. She can feel her parent’s hand holding hers tightly. It is cold to the touch and has been marked by small cuts, yet it is tender and comforting. As her mother always was. Whenever things were at their worst, whenever the girl was anguished, broken, and afraid, her mother always had a way of making things feel all better, a trait she had passed on to her daughter.

“What are you doing?” Cain’s voice rings out.

Nora redirects her gaze to him. He’s looking right at Clara; nonetheless, he does not see her.

Nora feels the grip slipping, and when she looks back, her mother is gone.

“What is it?” Cain asks. “Do you see something?”

The girl’s eyes flit back and forth. She turns her head. Even Puck’s mechanical face is plagued by confusion.

“Erm…” Nora hesitates. “No, nothing.”

Cain and Puck glare at her, perplexed. The girl laughs timidly and shuffles awkwardly back to the elevator doors.

It felt so real, her thoughts echo in hurt confusion. Like she was right there. It… It was… It must have been my imagination.

With Nora’s creative mind, great and impossible things could be imagined and could reach just outside the grasp of reality. She had created entire peoples, dialects, worlds, all in the solitude of hospital beds. But never anything this real.

They almost enter the elevator, then her father speaks in recollection.

“You reminded me, there’s something I have to get before we go down. Stay right here.”

He walks to the metal door by which that ghost of Nora’s mother had stood. He swipes a card and the bulky door slides open. As her father enters, Nora gets a glimpse of the room. It is a dome of white, the inside of which is cluttered with many objects. She can only make out one, a curled clump of metal on the floor. It is haunting how strangely human it appears to be. It almost looks like her mother; or maybe that’s her mind wanting it to be. It calls out to her–or is she imagining it? This is what happened to me. Listen, before it’s too late. You have to leave. You have to-

Something inside of Nora takes over and the voice in her head reassures, It’s no more than a scrap of metal. It’s not alive.

With this thought, there comes that familiar sensation. It is as if these thoughts are not her own. As if she is not truly herself.

She almost seems to believe that, but then the voice in her head speaks. Don’t be ridiculous. The disease is contained, your dog is back, and your father has a special surprise just for you. Everything’s getting better, remember?

The large door reopens and her father emerges, tucking a broken watch into one of the pockets of his lab coat. She remembers this watch, though unable to recall where from.

“Dad…”

“Talk later, Nora. We must get you to your surprise.”

The urge to question is boiling in her, but she swallows it down with the lump of anxiety in her throat. “Yes, sir.”

Everything’s getting better. At least, that is what she tells herself.